


The Quest for the Thai Chicken Pizza with Extra Mayo

by Kaiyo_no_Hime



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Comedy, D&D AU, D&D Player AU, Drabbles, M/M, They're literally D&D playing themselves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-12 08:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29756640
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiyo_no_Hime/pseuds/Kaiyo_no_Hime
Summary: Coen doesn't know why he bothers to try to understand or guide the game they are playing.  But he's the DM, and it's his responsibility, and so their weekly game of D&D continues much as it always has, with chaos and him wondering about his sanity.  And the sanity of his players.And he's quite sure that Jaskier has cursed dice, but they're only cursed to make his life a pain so he's allowing it.AKA: the AU where they're playing themselves as D&D characters, only it's comedic and not dramatic.  And Geralt is still stubborn and won't say anything.A series of comedic drabbles, no real over arching plot line, and no firm update schedule.  There is swearing and Lambert's questionable taste in food.
Relationships: Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher), Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 35
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

Jaskier plucked at his lute, humming a tune as he approached the sandy shore, sunset washing the ocean a liquid gold as the sky blossomed into a brilliant streak of fire. The wind was cool against his face after the scorching heat of the long summer day, and he could already almost pick out the quavering voice across the waves.

“No,” Geralt snapped.

“What, what do you mean no? You don’t get to say no,” Jaskier argued back, turning to Coen. “He doesn’t get to say no. Does he? I don’t think he should get to say no, he’s not there. Is he there?”

Coen rubbed at his forehead and shot a glare at Geralt from over the top of his GM screen. Jaskier grinned at turned to meet Geralt’s glare head on. He was quite sure he was about to win this argument, Geralt didn’t get to say no.

He was finally going to show them what a bard could truly do!

“This is why I said we should wait for the others to show up with the food-”

“I brought food,” Geralt pointed out, gesturing at the pile of chopped celery sticks and carrots on a plate at the center of the table. 

Jaskier pulled a face and Coen just raised an eyebrow.

“There’s not even cream cheese! You can’t have celery sticks without cream cheese, there’s a law or something.” Jaskier said, still glaring at the celery sticks.

“Cream cheese isn’t healthy, and all you do is eat the damn cream cheese and throw the celery stick away! There’s no point of putting it in the celery stick if you’re not going to eat the celery stick!” Geralt snapped back.

“Yenn would have put cream cheese in the celery sticks,” Jaskier pouted, pushing at one of his dice sullenly. 

“No she wouldn’t,” Geralt argued back.

“Geralt’s right,” Coen said. “Yenn puts peanut butter in the celery sticks, and little raisins on the peanut butter.”

“I love the little raisins, they’re the best! Why didn’t you bring raisins, I like raisins,” Jaskier asked, still staring at the celery sticks.

Geralt just raised his hand and flipped Jaskier the bird before grabbing a single celery stick and shoving it half in his mouth. Jaskier continued meeting his glare with his stare as his friend chewed his celery stick, mouth half open, the crunching echoing through the room.

“I swear to fucking god, I’m going to make you assholes roll for permission to even talk to each other in the damn future,” Coen groaned, putting his head down and hiding behind the screen.

The front door slammed opened, and they all turned as Eskel and Lambert sauntered into the room, Lambert proudly holding a large pizza box aloft. Eskel stared between Jaskier and the still angrily crunching Geralt and just sighed, putting his stacks of chips and tamales next to the plate of carrots and celery sticks.

Lambert leaned over and shoved everything down the table to make room for his pizza box.

“The food has arrived!” Lambert declared with a grin.

“I feel I should say in advance that I am not involved with the pizza,” Eskel said, and Jaskier eyed the pizza box suspiciously. “Is Ciri sick or something? Why isn’t there peanut butter in the celery sticks?”

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Jaskier said, throwing his hands up in the air. “With raisins. Geralt doubts the importance of raisins.”

Eskel slid into the chair at Jaskier’s side, beginning to pull out the binder that neatly organized his character sheets. Jaskier looked into the bag and grinned as he saw the bag that had to be cookies from that bakery down by the university. The one that used extra peanut butter candies and didn’t skimp on the sprinkles.

Eskel rolled his eyes and swatted his hands away as he pulled out his bag of dice and zipped the bag shut.

“I don’t doubt the importance of raisins,” Geralt groaned. “But all anyone ever brings is junk food!”

“I brought wheat thins,” Eskel pointed out. 

“Vegetables are more important, and I know he,” Geralt pointed specifically at Jaskier, “is not getting enough.”

“I have plenty of tomatoes!” Jaskier scoffed.

“Yeah, in liquor. Doesn’t count,” Lambert said, sitting next to Geralt and pulling out a pile of coffee stained papers. 

“Aiden not coming tonight,” Coen asked, flipping through papers behind his screen.

“He’s grading papers, he’ll be here next week,” Lambert said, reaching over to open the lid of the pizza box.

Coen stared at the revealed pizza. Jaskier made a face. Geralt wrinkled his nose.

Eskel sighed and covered his face, “I would like to repeat, once more, that I had nothing to do with this. He already had this abomination when I picked him up. I brought chips.”

“Do we have to roll to identify it,” Jaskier asked, looking up at Coen. “I don’t think I have skill points in identifying whatever the fuck that is.”

“I’m not eating that,” Geralt declared.

“You’re all no fun. It’s a perfectly good pizza,” Lambert said, sticking out his tongue and grabbing a piece.

“If we can’t identify it, it’s not perfectly good pizza! Perfectly good pizza is pepperoni and pineapple! Not… whatever the fuck that is. There is white streaked across it. White should not be streaked across pizza,” Jaskier complained.

“It’s Thai chicken pizza with extra mayo, and it’s lovely,” Lambert said, beginning to stuff the piece into his mouth.

The others stared at him, unconvinced. Jaskier winced and shot a glare at Geralt as he kicked him under the table.

“Don’t kick me, I didn’t bring the damn pizza!” Jaskier snapped. “I brought beer. And soda,” he added for Eskel.

Dear sweet Eskel that was the driest driver on the damn planet.

“Sorry, was trying for Eskel,” Geralt said, glaring at Eskel.

Jaskier looked between the two of them, Eskel glaring back, and then at Lambert who was trying not to laugh with a mouthful of pizza. 

“I didn’t do anything,” Eskel said pointedly.

“Hands,” Geralt snapped back.

“Attached to my arms,” Eskel said.

“Game,” Coen said, dragging attention away from the two men.

Jaskier sighed, fondling one of his dice as he turned toward Coen. Lambert cursed under his breath as some of his rice rolled off the table, and Coen just sighed. Geralt was already eyeing the time, apparently he had promised Yenn that he would pick up Ciri early tonight so she could go out for the night, and they were getting nowhere.

Which, now that he considered it, was rather par for the course for them. Although it usually included better pizza.

“Where were we?” Eskel asked, neatly arranging a selection of brilliantly colored crimson dice before him.

“You and Lambert are returning from the next town over with potion supplies and repaired armor, Geralt is discussing the siren with some fishermen-”

“Sirens. It’s a whole damn school of them. There’s no way a single siren could have taken out a whole ship on her own. It has to be a school,” Geralt insisted.

“As I said, Geralt is investigating, and Jaskier has decided to meet the siren in single combat. With a lute.”

Eskel and Lambert both turned to stare at Jaskier, and Jaskier flushed. When laid out like that it really did sound like a piss poor plan. He was usually better than that, but he also thought Geralt was wrong, and that a siren wouldn’t kill a fellow musician.

“Not single combat. I’m intending to duet with her and convince her to move on and quit wrecking ships,” Jaskier insisted. “Music soothes the savage beast and whatnot.”

Eskel sighed, pinching at the bridge of his nose, and flipped through his binder.

“Is there any way we can hasten our return to save him?” Eskel asked. “Skorpion is well rested, he should be able speed up a little. And it’s not far, it certainly won’t kill him.”

“You don’t know Jaskier is in danger, you have to reason to hasten your return,” Coen reminded him. “And Aiden and Lambert are both riding his horse, so they can’t.”

“Eskel should have ‘dumbass bard is doing dumbass things’ marked down as a skill somewhere, that should let him know.” Lambert pointed out.

Jaskier squawked indignantly. He was not a dumbass bard that went around doing dumbass things! He was the intelligence and charisma of the group! He earned the most coin, dammit!

“No, that’s one of Geralt’s skills, he’s usually the one that sticks the closest to him. You didn’t notice that he wandered off to face a siren alone?” Eskel asked, giving Geralt a smug smirk.

Geralt sighed, his shoulders heaving.

“Schools of sirens. And no, I thought I left him alone at the damn inn to earn some coin for when you idiots returned so we could share more than one room for once!”

“At sunset, don’t forget to add the dumbass bard is going off to face the siren, or school of sirens,” Coen said, giving Geralt a glance, “at sunset. Alone. Armed only with a lute and his voice.”

“Please tell me the sirens aren’t actually singing to him, and they just haven’t noticed him and are ignoring him for better prey,” Eskel groaned, flipping furiously through his binder.

For all that the man had better magic skills, and an impressive loot list, Jaskier knew he wasn’t going to find anything. Coen had made a point of not allowing fast travel for convenient saving. Unless Yenn was here, but that was just because Yenn had damn near the perfect and most annoying spell set ever, and no one questioned Yenn when things needed to be done.

Unfortunately Yenn was not here, and he realized that he may, in fact, have made a horrifically bad decision. And could, possibly, be about to die. Which would be sad because he rather hated having to roll up new characters.

“The siren,” Jaskier shot Geralt a glare, “is singing back to me.”

“Oh great, a new bard to break in,” Lambert groaned.

“Jaskier, you should probably roll some dice. Numbers are needed,” Coen said, rolling dice of his own behind the screen.

Jaskier sighed, picking up several dice and closing his eyes as he let them roll across the table. Silence filled the room, and Jaskier blinked and looked down at his dice.

“I’m alive,” Jaskier said, honestly surprised.

“You have to be fucking kidding me,” Lambert swore. “Why the fuck is it that the bard is the best roller in the damn party!?”

“That is literally the best roll I have ever seen in my life. Natural 20s across the board,” Eskel said, letting out a low whistle.

“Maybe if you find your potion of swiftness I’ll let you match a few of my rolls later at the inn,” Jaskier said with a grin, waggling his eyebrows.

Eskel coughed, his ears going red, and then yelped and glared at Geralt. Geralt just smiled smugly back at him. Jaskier glanced between the two of them and sighed, he never understood what they were arguing about.

Coen coughed and brought their attention back to him.

“Congratulations Jaskier, the siren,” he smirked pointedly at Geralt, “is so intrigued and fascinated by your singing not only does she not kill you, she actually does accompany you in a duet.”

“Score!” Jaskier shouted jubilantly.

“Roll again,” Coen said.

Jaskier rolled again and was happy with high numbers.

“Congratulations, you get skill points,” Coen said.

“I fucked the siren, didn’t I?”

“You and the siren had a beautiful and moist night of love making upon the shore under the moonlight. She leaves you swiftly as sunrise breaks over the horizon,” Coen informs him. “She will never be heard from again.”

Geralt growled and muttered under his breath, glaring at Coen, and Lambert was howling in laughter. Jaskier just sighed and accepted the skill points, it was the easiest way for him to earn points half the time, though he didn’t know why Geralt was so pissed about. It was harder to play the game and level without a sword than with, he was clearly the better player by being able to keep up with them at all.

“Congratulations,” Eskel said. “Now please drag your seawater soaked ass back to the inn so that we know you’re safe.”

“I drag my seawater soaked ass back to the inn-”

Geralt slammed his binder shut, his dice already stowed away in their little purple bag, and everyone at the table turned to look at him. He stood suddenly, the chair scraping across the floor behind him.

“I have to go, I promised Yenn,” Geralt said.

“Geralt, it’s barely-” Coen started.

“I promised Yenn,” Geralt said, cutting him off.

The four men watched him storm out of the room, and Jaskier’s eyes lit up as Eskel pulled the bag of cookies from his backpack. He had even gotten the double fudge chocolate with sprinkles, his favorite!

“Now, about those inn rooms,” Eskel smirked.

The plate of carrots and celery sticks remained forgotten at the end of the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I have no clue what to put at the end of this. I usually put something funny, but the entire damn fic is just funny omake!
> 
> Jaskier: you could put something poignant?
> 
> Me: the reason you’re so sexually free with those around you is because you have low self esteem and you think they’ll abandon you if you don’t please them in every way possible
> 
> Geralt: O.o
> 
> Coen: o.o
> 
> Eskel: ;-;
> 
> Lambert: for fucks sake, he meant something stupid about how he should be whining about the fact that that damn silk suit of his has probably been ruined by the sea water!
> 
> *Jaskier cries into Eskel’s arms*
> 
> *Eskel glares*
> 
> *Geralt glares and glares at Eskel*
> 
> Me: … oh. Yeah, so that then.


	2. Chapter 2

Coen stared at the rather large bowl of raisins that Yenn was carrying, and then looked back up at her. She had the particular gleam in her eye that always screamed mischief and trouble for him. He was actually honestly almost halfway tempted to just close the door in her face, turn off the lights, and pretend that Friday didn’t exist.

But he didn’t because if he was stupid enough to do so she would probably batter down the door, drown him in raisins, and then usurp something. He didn’t even have anything to usurp, but she would find a way.

She always found a way.

“You heard about last week then,” Coen said, stepping aside and letting her in.

He could almost hear the danger in the swishing of her black skirts. She was going to usurp something. Hopefully Jaskier brought something stronger than beer this week.

“Geralt wouldn’t stop bitching about it, and Ciri was quite adamant that I rectify his mistake,” Yen said with a grin.

She put the bowl on the table and removed the plastic wrap, and Coen nearly took a step back from the fumes. Well, that certainly solved the booze question, now it remained to be seen how long anyone could stay sober in the same room as that bowl.

“Did you just dump the entire bottle of rum in there?” Coen asked, eyeing the bowl warily.

“Don’t be silly, they’re rum raisins. I soaked them in rum for three days,” Yenn said, popping a few in her mouth.

“Jaskier’s favorite,” Coen groaned, rubbing at his temples. He could already see the glares Geralt would be shooting Yenn over the table.

“He does work so hard with his students all week, he deserves to unwind and enjoy himself on the weekends,” Yenn said, sliding in a seat.

Eskel’s seat, he noted. Jaskier would be between himself and Yenn, and now both Eskel and Geralt would spend the night glaring at her. They were never going to get anything done at this rate. All his plans for them stopping the evil Nilfgaardian emperor, or, quite frankly, doing anything else but fucking around, were hopeless.

Maybe he could shove them all up a mountain and have a dragon kill them all. It would do them all some good to have to reroll some characters for once, even if Eskel would find some damn way to be a sorcerer witcher again.

“You know Geralt and Eskel are going to strangle you over this,” Coen said, beginning to set up his gear.

“That would require them to actually do something rather than sit on their asses and brood over Jask,” Yenn said, glaring at one of the figures on his GM screen. “That’s not even humanely possible. And no one flying would wear anything that skimpy, it’s cold and windy at altitude.”

Coen leaned over and glanced at the figure. Some generic woman with wings and a tiny little bikini, and, he had to agree, the most oddly twisted body and boobs he had ever seen. It definitely left something to be desired as a representation of the female sex. Or bird people too, he would assume.

“I don’t make the screens, I just have them. You want to stare at sir beefcake of the swollen shoulder clan with the stupidly large sword sit on the other side,” Coen said with a shrug.

Yenn glared, but he could see her thinking about it and he honestly hoped she took him up on the offer. Yes, sitting her with Aiden and Lambert could only cause chaos, but at least it would let Geralt and Eskel fight over Jaskier’s attention in peace.

He was going to have to trap Jaskier’s character in a cave with the other two soon and make them fight over their feelings, or at least just fucking say something. 

Dragons lived in caves, they did need some XP after the disappointing, and incredibly short, game last week. And now that Yenn was there she could at least stop them from being completely stupid. Well, at least guide the stupid in the right direction, and Lambert and Aiden together were great tacticians.

He started flipping through his papers and checking locations against the map. Close enough to the mountains to make it reasonable, far enough that he could probably stretch the game out over two or three weeks. Or longer, if Geralt kept getting snappy and leaving. Or they could leave Geralt to get eaten by the damn dragon and make him reroll as a squire or something as punishment.

“You’re plotting something,” Yenn said, peeking over the top of his screen.

“No, I’m planning something. The plotting I leave up to you,” Coen said distractedly.

Aiden and Lambert were back at the inn, Jaskier and Eskel were at the inn, Geralt was brooding in a corner at the inn. How would they get Yenn there? And, also, he couldn’t believe he was about to go with the lamest and most predictable D&D campaign starter of all time: a group of travelers at an inn looking for a quest.

He was better than that. 

“Say, where did we leave you last?” Coen asked.

“I was taking care of some business with the Brotherhood down south,” Yenn answered nonchalantly, organizing her dice. 

“And is Geralt coming this week, or is he watching Ciri?”

“Vesemir is watching Ciri, Geralt should be on time. I think he’s picking up Lambert and Aiden though, so they may be a little late,” Yenn said suspiciously.

“Good, good. I’ll have you receive word about a dragon in the mountains near where they are-”

“I don’t need dragon ingredients for anything at the moment.”

“You’re a greedy bitch, you always need dragon ingredients for something,” Coen grinned.

“So I’m going to drag the rest of them up the mountain after me? Geralt will say no, you know that,” Yenn pointed out. “He doesn’t trust me.”

“No, you’ll have Jaskier go with you.”

“And where Jaskier goes Geralt and Eskel will go,” Yenn laughed. “And where those two go...”

“Lambert and Aiden will follow to laugh at them. It’ll be great fun, lots of XP guaranteed,” Coen agreed.

Yenn hummed, pulling out a few more dice, her special occasion dice she liked to think, that usually rolled spectacularly well when needed. 

“You know, if we don’t play this right, we may need to break in a new bard,” Yenn pointed out.

“Eh, Jaskier’s good at rolling up new bards. It’ll give him an excuse to change his character’s hairstyle.” 

“That hat and that goatee!” Yenn laughed. “I was so sure that his Dandelion bard was an evil villain from Star Trek! At least this one at least looks slightly normal. Although he does spend half our damn coin on baths. He knows this is a game, right? He’s not really there, none of us really needs baths.”

“He gets half his XP from seducing people into his bed so you assholes can escape from dungeons, he needs all the baths he can afford,” Coen snorted, reaching around and grabbing a few raisins and frowning. “Why are they slightly… gooey?”

“I left them to soak in the rum too long,” Yenn shrugged. 

“Oh good, we’ll kill the bard from alcohol poisoning this week then,” Coen sighed, looking around for napkins.

His group was generally clean, but gooey, rum soaked raisins was asking for trouble, especially if Yenn was going to cause issues with Eskel and Geralt. And if one of them ended up getting a raisin in her hair, all bets were off. 

The front door opened and he heard arguing already and groaned. He needed to find a calmer, more relaxing game to recover from this one. The Sims was relaxing, you just told digital people what to do and they did it, without bringing strange smelling foods and pizzas into his house. 

“It’s not proper food,” Geralt snapped, and Aiden just sniggered as Lambert stuck his tongue out at him.

“It’s pizza, it’s not supposed to be proper food, it’s supposed to be good food! And it is good!” Lambert insisted.

“Lamb, I will love you to death to the end of my days, but Geralt is right. Potatoes and asparagus do not belong on pizza,” Aiden said, and Coen just groaned.

How was Lambert finding these abominations? And why was he bringing them to his house!? 

“Geralt said everyone needed more vegetables, so I got us a pizza with vegetables!” Lambert said, setting the box down and opening the lid.

Coen and Yenn both peered into the box. Yenn just raised an eyebrow, but Coen glared at Lambert. They were supposed to share pizza duty, but he always declared himself in charge of pizza, and it always ended in disaster. He was half tempted to make him roll a saving throw just to keep from getting thrown out the front door and told to get a real pizza. With pepperoni and cheese, not… salad and more mayo.

Why was there always mayo?

“Jaskier’s not going to eat that,” Yenn said, rolling her eyes as Geralt put a salad on the table. “And none of us are going to eat that. How is anyone going to eat that without forks and plates?”

“Salad is healthy,” Geralt said. “No one here is getting enough vegetables, and it’s better than the mound of grease that Lambert is trying to pass off as pizza.”

Coen snorted at that, Yenn was right, no one was going to eat any of what the three men had put on the table. He grabbed another handful of raisins. They needed more rum. Yenn should have soaked them all week, until they were pleasant little rum filled skins that would make him forget why he always had to order a pizza after everyone left.

“Ooh, I like greasy pizza,” Jaskier said, darting into the room and then coming to a stop in front of the table, staring at the box.

Eskel, coming in behind him with a bag of cookies from that expensive bakery downtown that were at least deliciously edible, snorted at the sight. Jaskier sighed, slipping into the seat next to Yenn and leaning on her shoulder as Geralt and Eskel both glared at the woman.

“Why does Lambert hate me so,” Jaskier wailed.

“He hates all of us, now hand over the wine,” Yenn said, patting his head.

Jaskier, obediently, handed over the three bottles of red that he had stashed in his bag as he began to pull out his papers and dice. Three dice rolled out and landed on 20s and Coen sighed. It was going to be a very, very long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Eskel brings Jaskier his favorite cookies, because he cares*
> 
> *Geralt brings Jaskier a salad, because he cares*
> 
> *Jaskier brings wine to share with Yenn because he has not caught on to Geralt and Eskel caring*
> 
> *Yenn happily drinks the wine because she is currently in the middle of the most interesting telenova she has ever seen*
> 
> Coen: how is this my life!? Lambert was shy around Aiden for two months, asked him out, and now they’re married! What is wrong with Geralt and Eskel!?
> 
> Yenn: shush, you’ll ruin this weeks episode
> 
> Coen: my head hurts. Pass the wine please
> 
> *Yenn passes a very generously poured cup of wine*
> 
> *Eskel and Geralt glare at each other*
> 
> *Jaskier continues not to notice and also drinks wine*


	3. Chapter 3

Coen ignored Jaskier’s glares. And Yenn’s glares. And Geralt and Eskel’s particularly annoying glares. And Lambert and Aiden’s laughter. And the open box of what had been sold as an attempt at pizza but, at this point, he was quite certain a joke that the shop was playing on Lambert and the man hadn’t caught on yet and kept eating the damn things. Because there was corn on it, and roasted green unidentifiable vegetables, and apple slices, and he wanted no part in any of it.

Coen was becoming very good at ignoring a great many things these days. Soon enough he would be able to ignore that Fridays existed at all to begin with, and, perhaps, he wouldn’t be spending his Friday nights sitting in a room ignoring his friends.

“That can’t be right,” Jaskier finally insisted. “The math is wrong. Yenn, tell him the math is wrong.”

Yenn just laughed at that.

“I don’t think there’s a lot of math involved in getting kidnapped by a dragon. That’s not really a math problem. A probability problem if you were asking if it could happen. But it has happened, so it’s no longer a probability but a certain fact,” Yenn said with a grin.

“But, there’s math! There should be weight ratios and lift equations, and things about wing size, and, and,” Jaskier sputtered, downing the last of his glass of wine.

Coen shot Yenn a glare and she, wisely, discreetly moved the remaining bottle down the table and moved the bottle of sparkling apple cider into Jaskier’s reach. At this rate the man would have trouble stumbling home as it was. 

“It’s a dragon, Jaskier. They have magic, they don’t have to obey the laws of physics,” Aiden pointed out, and Coen nodded in agreement.

It was also just a game, and there was no way he was going to spend his week trying to find ways to make the explanations realistically plausible. Yenn went around shooting fire from her damn fingertips after all, realistic was allowed to be thrown out the window when it came to D&D.

That was the point of the damn game, after all.

“But why is it kidnapping me!? Don’t they, you know, kidnap princesses and shit!?” Jaskier wailed, throwing his head down on the table.

“You rolled a 3, just be glad it didn’t set you on fire and eat you for a snack,” Coen sighed.

Jaskier’s ability to roll the one number that he thought no one could ever roll was always mystifying. And annoying. But, at least, this time interesting. Although he had changed the entire campaign from ‘dragon eating villagers, make it stop’ to ‘dragon has kidnapped the bard, save him’.

“Why am I always the one that gets kidnapped,” Jaskier moaned, his face still buried in his papers.

The exact question that Coen wanted answered as well, but he very much doubted that the universe would be nice enough to answer any time soon. Or at all. Ever.

At least he had a hoard of men with pointy swords that would come and rescue him.

“We have to go save him,” Geralt snapped. “What do I roll?”

“You don’t roll anything, he’s already been kidnapped,” Coen pointed out.

“Which way did the dragon go? How far?” Eskel asked. “Is it still close enough for Yenn to cast a tracking spell on?”

“Is it close enough to attempt to shoot down?” Lambert asked helpfully.

“NO!” Jaskier, Eskel, and Geralt all shouted at once.

“Laws of physics being bent for dragons aside, if you shoot it down Jaskier will drop and probably make splat sound and pop like a watermelon,” Yenn said, looking over her spell list. “Also, I don’t think I can lo jack a dragon. Looks like we may have to track the damn thing the old fashioned way.”

“By listening to Jaskier’s never ending shrieks and pleas for help.” Lambert snorted.

“That’s a good point. Jaskier, roll some dice,” Coen said.

Jaskier sighed, picking up a dice and rolling it. It bounced off the pizza box and settled on an astonishingly low number once again. Coen sighed, hoping that one of the others would roll high enough to at least track the dragon’s direction or they were going to spend the next few Fridays trying to figure out how the hell to find a dragon.

“Congratulations, you’re unconscious because of altitude related problems,” Coen said.

Yenn patted Jaskier on the head as he just lay face first on the table, his glass of sparkling apple cider now completely forgotten beside him. Geralt growled as Eskel flipped through sheets, but Coen already knew there wasn’t anything he could safely do.

“The math still doesn’t make any damn sense,” came Jaskier’s muffled voice. He sat up, rubbing at his cheeks. “Wouldn’t I have to be at like airplane height to pass out? Can dragons fly that high? I don’t think dragons fly that high, wouldn’t they pass out?”

“Clearly not if you’re knocked out and the dragon isn’t,” Lambert said. “I got an 18, can I least see where the damn thing has swaned off to with the bard?”

“You watch the dragon fly toward the mountains north, far above the treeline. You notice the dark cleft in the mountains toward where the dragon seems to be going,” Coen told him. 

“How far from the damn cleft are we?” Lambert sighed.

“Between the two of you, I don’t think I would trust either of you to want to find it,” Yenn said with a smirk.

Lambert frowned and Coen rubbed at his forehead.

“No, she’s right, it would be much more pleasant if the dragon was flying toward the mountain’s dick. Is the mountain gay? I think it would be easier to approach a gay mountain’s dick,” Aiden said with a laugh.

“Oh come on, the mountain’s not gay! Mountains don’t have dicks, they don’t have sexuality! It’s a damn mountain,” Jaskier complained, downing his glass of sparkling cider and then sputtering as he finally realized that his wine had been cut off.

Jaskier glared at Yenn. Coen joined him in glaring at Yenn. Yenn just smirked happily back and drank her wine.

“You shouldn’t get to decide that for the mountain,” Eskel said with a smile. “That should be for the mountain to decide. Everyone should have bodily autonomy.”

“Hush, or I’ll feed you to the damn gazeebo. The mountain is not sentient, it does not have a dick, nor does it have any form of sexuality,” Coen said with a sigh. “What it does have is a dragon’s lair, and an unconscious bard.”

“Doesn’t cleft mean between two mountains,” Geralt asked. “So wouldn’t that mean that the dragon was flying through the mountains toward something on the other side?”

Coen paused and thought about that for a moment. That could be right, technically. 

“The mountains are line of sight, let’s portal to this bitch and save his ass before he starts flirting with the damn mountain and gets a response,” Yenn said, downing her wine and picking up her dice.

“Wait, can I do that? I want to flirt with the mountain,” Jaskier said, finally perking up. “There’s got to be XP and skill points for flirting with a mountain.”

“You can’t flirt with the mountain, you’re unconscious,” Coen told him. 

Jaskier rolled anyway.

Everyone stared at the natural 20 that stared back at them.

“How do you even do that,” Lambert asked in surprise.

Coen, too, wondered the same thing. And if he had enough aspirin in the house to make the dull pounding of the headache go away. He didn’t think so. There was never enough aspirin to make the headache that were Jaskier’s rolls go away.

“He is not involved with a mountain,” Geralt insisted. “That’s stupid, you just said that it’s just a mountain!”

“I didn’t think he would roll on it!” Coen snapped back. “Congratulations, Jaskier, you are now romantically involved with a mountain.”

“At least we know where stone creatures come from now,” Eskel said with a laugh.

“You’re just jealous that the mountain thinks I’m sexy,” Jaskier stuck his tongue out at Eskel.

Coen just groaned and wondered why he even bothered anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Me stares at dice*
> 
> *Everyone stares at me*
> 
> Yenn: you don’t even remember how to properly roll dice for D&D anymore, do you?
> 
> Me: not my fault, I stopped playing during 3.5, and it’s not like I can just go find a D&D group right now anyway! 
> 
> Yenn: there are online groups
> 
> Me: yes, but there are no gaming stores with D&D dice in Japan, I’ve looked! This is a diceless country!
> 
> Yenn: … this is the reason you took 1d6 damage and glowed for 12 hours. And your party tied you to the end of the pole and used you as a lantern. You never think these things through, there is an internet you can buy things from and research
> 
> Me: at least the toxic mold and slime that fell into my pockets proved useful later in usurping the throne and raising the infant king as a puppet
> 
> Everyone: O.o
> 
> Me: chaotic evil kender sorceress, it’s a requirement that I take over a country or two!
> 
> *Eskel and Geralt throw Jaskier to the back of the party and draw swords*
> 
> *Yenn shares wine with Coen*
> 
> *Coen imbibes heavily*


	4. Chapter 4

Coen blinked in surprise as Jaskier let out a solid oof, leaning forward as a giggling blonde missile attached herself to his back. He quickly leaned over and grabbed the glass of red wine before it made an attempt to turn anything in the room red, and glanced back to see a grinning Yenn holding a pizza box.

A lovely, delicious smelling pizza box that, quite likely, could promise amazing and delightful things. Hopefully all of which were edible when combined.

“Jaskier, Jaskier, Jaskier, guess what,” Ciri giggled, pigtails flopping madly in the air as Ciri tried to jump up and down while still attached to Jaskier’s back.

“My spleen,” Jaskier wheezed. 

“Grandad was busy tonight so Mama said I could play too!” Ciri shrieked happily.

“Inside voice,” Yenn said out of habit, opening the box and placing it on the table.

Needing to put the current campaign on pause and find a new one that was completely child appropriate was worth it just for the sight of the extra cheese and pepperoni pizza that Yenn had brought. The deliciously dull pizza was, right now, the light of his life.

“It’s gonna be great! I even brought my dice and papers and everything!” Ciri smiled, jumping up and down a few more times before Yenn saved a dying Jaskier by picking the little girl up and settling her in a chair. “And we brought hat pizza because Mama says Lamby always brings stupid pizza.”

Coen snorted at that through a mouthful of molten cheese and pepperoni. Lamby, he was definitely not going to let the other man live that down.

“Hat pizza,” Jaskier asked, staring warily at the pizza.

Coen, too, was curious. But, as Yenn was pulling out napkins and giving her daughter a slice, he wasn’t too concerned. Yes, she would probably poison them all and dance on their graves if they truly crossed her, but she wouldn’t fuck with anything her daughter was eating. 

Yenn was the overprotective parent of the two, and that was saying something considering Geralt’s temper at times.

“Proper hat,” Yenn said as way of explanation.

It explained nothing, but Coen didn’t care. He had delicious, delicious, completely sane and normal pizza, and he was happy. 

The door opened and he could hear Eskel and Geralt bickering as they came in and watched Ciri’s face light up as she heard Geralt’s voice. She didn’t game with them often, it was actually rather difficult to game with a five year old, especially when they were all adults that wanted to unwind instead of bite their tongues on a Friday evening, but it was still adorable none the less. 

And Yenn and Geralt usually found a sitter for her, so it rarely happened more than once every few months, so Coen didn’t mind. They could all use a break from the monotony of trying to save the world at times.

“Daddy!” Ciri shrieked, bouncing out of her chair and launching herself into Geralt’s arms.

Geralt caught her with a smile, hugging her close as she bounced happily in his arms. Coen could literally feel the diabetes starting, it was adorable.

“Bike break down again,” Yenn asked as Eskel stepped around Geralt.

“The bike is fine,” Geralt said, still holding a happy Ciri. 

“Bikes that are fine start. Yours did not start,” Eskel said, placing a bag full of cookies on the table, his eyes lighting up at the sight of a normal pizza.

Coen snagged a second slice.

“Again, I thought you had it fixed a few weeks ago,” Jaskier said, catching Cirii as she was finally set down and bounced in his general direction.

Eskel sighed and sat across from Jaskier. Coen sniggered and Eskel stuck his tongue out. 

“Different issue,” Geralt explained, sitting next to Jaskier, taking Ciri and holding her in his lap before she decided to bounce up and attack the poor man again.

“And the car,” Yenn asked, mopping at Ciri’s face with a napkin.

“… it’s why the bike won’t start,” Geralt said sheepishly.

“Daddy!” Ciri said, frowning as she looked up. “Did you hurt the car with the bike?”

“Yes, Geralt, did you hurt the car with the bike,” Yenn asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Yes Geralt, please explain as to why the bike will not start and the driver’s side of the car looks like a reject from a Mad Max movie,” Eskel said, pushing back as Geralt kicked out at him under the table.

“Who’s Max, did you hurt a Max?” Ciri asked.

“It was raining, I took the drive too fast, I’m fine,” Geralt said, slapping at Jaskier’s hands as he tried to lift the sleeve of his shirt.

Yenn snorted and rolled her eyes, and held out her arms for Ciri to crawl over to her. Ciri climbed over, a piece of pizza clutched in her hand, and started lining up her dice on the table. Coen was impressed, he didn’t think that amount of neon and sparkle glitter was possible in a single item, but he had been proven wrong.

“Where’s Lambert and Aiden, are they coming,” Jaskier asked, glancing at the clock.

“They were a little… busy,” Eskel said, blushing. “They’ll probably be in in a few minutes.”

“Seriously, right outside,” Coen groaned. “My next door neighbor thinks we’re devil worshipers as it is.”

“What’s devil worship,” Ciri asked, looking up at Yenn curiously.

Jaskier burst into laughter at that, stuffing his mouth with pizza as Yenn shot him a glare and Geralt just buried his face in his hands. It was honestly almost worth having to deal with old Mrs McLeary glaring at him and muttering under her breath when she saw him.

Not that she saw him much these days, now that the wonderful seven foot tall hedge in the front yard was coming in wonderfully, and the privacy fence in the backyard, while causing him to have to rethink his vegetable garden placement, was doing its job. She was still taping little bibles to his garbage cans though, but at least she had stopped taping fliers for Christian dating sites to them as well.

“What the fuck!?” Lambert shouted as he walked in the room, a hickey blooming on his neck and a pizza box in hand.

“That’s a Mama word. Only Mama is supposed to say Mama words,” Ciri piped up. “Did you bring a mean pizza? You’re not supposed to bring mean pizzas, mean pizzas aren’t nice.”

Aiden was smiling widely, arms wrapped around Lambert as he rested his head on his husband’s. Lambert’s ears were going red, and Jaskier was nearly choking to death laughing on pizza.

“Yenn, pizzas are my job!” Lambert complained again. “I even picked one up that everyone should like.”

“What’s on the pizza,” Coen asked, raising an eyebrow.

Lambert paused for a moment before sighing.

“Goat cheese with lettuce, garlic, and kimchi.”

“That explains the smell,” Eskel said helpfully.

“That explains nothing. Kimchi does not belong on pizza,” Jaskier said, accepting an offered juice box from Ciri to wash down the last of his pizza.

“Can we play now? I wanna have a lightsaber and save Jaskier,” Ciri said. “And I want to ride a unicorn.”

“Why am I the one that always needs to be saved,” Jaskier pouted, sucking on his straw petulantly.

“Because you’re pretty, Daddy says so,” Ciri said, reaching out to steal a cookie from the bag.

Geralt flushed and winced as Eskel kicked him under the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aiden: your neighbor is seriously trying to set you up with religious dating fliers?
> 
> Coen: at least it’s just dating fliers now
> 
> Everyone: ?
> 
> Coen: … she may or may not have arranged dates without my knowing. 
> 
> Jaskier: that’s convenient
> 
> Coen: not when I don’t know and answer the door in my boxers!
> 
> Jaskier: were they at least sexy boxers?
> 
> Coen: … they were Star Wars boxers
> 
> Jaskier: did you go on the dates?
> 
> Coen: no! I’m not going to date strange religious women that show up at my door, that’s how you end up a serial killer’s victim!
> 
> Aiden: and they could steal your Star Wars boxers
> 
> Coen: yes, because losing the boxers is the worst thing that could happen in those circumstances
> 
> Jaskier: and here I thought losing boxers on dates was the best part
> 
> *Geralt and Eskel blush furiously*


	5. Chapter 5

Coen carefully arranged the plates of premade tacos, fanning them out in artistic and delicious flowers. He made sure the taco shells on the second plate were similarly placed, the bowls of meat, beans, lettuce, tomatoes, freshly grated cheeses, guacamole, and sour cream spread evening down in a row. He would have preferred to use the lazy Susan, but there just wasn’t room.

Everything smelled delicious, and while he was fairly sure there wasn’t enough to actually fill everyone, he had seen Geralt eat his weight in steaks when he put his mind to it, there was certainly enough to keep them happily satiated until they left to return home. Anyone still hungry was free to get food on their own after that, they were adults after all.

He had already confirmed with Yenn that Ciri would be with Vesemir tonight, so there was no worrying about having to change his plans last minute. Everyone would be here, and he wanted to be prepared.

Because they were going to rue the day they ever thought him a soft DM by the time they were finished with their first encounter with the Frost Demons of the Northern Mountains. They had all laughed last week, joking about having a snowball fight, and how they would defeat anything that leapt out with them with ease with Yenn’s fire spells.

But no, they would be mistaken. And, he suspected, they may not all make it out of this campaign alive. He definitely didn’t think Jaskier would, the others had enough healing abilities that it could save them.

Maybe he could get Jaskier separated from the group, with Eskel or Geralt, and have him die in his arms. It would be tragic, tears would be shed, and he would cackle. Politely. As a DM is allowed, nay required!, to do at times. Especially when their damn players keep doing things like fucking mountains!

He let the lightsaber incident slide as that didn’t really count, that was just Ciri wanting to be a Jedi and, honestly, it was best to just encourage such hobbies at her age. When she was older she could learn some of the more realistic ins and outs of the game.

The door opened and Lambert appeared, and Coen blinked. The man was almost never the first to arrive, especially by nearly, Coen glanced a the clock, twenty minutes.

“You’re early,” Coen said, double checking that there were plates and napkins enough for everyone, and serving spoons, before eyeing the pizza box in Lambert’s hands.

“He insisted,” Aiden sighed, closing the door soundly behind him, the storm wind fighting him a touch.

The rolling thunderstorms would definitely add to the atmosphere he wanted to build tonight. And, if they lost power, he had enough spare candles to carry them through the evening. Although a few of the dice sets would be more difficult to read, and he would have to keep the open flames away from Jaskier.

“Pizza is my job, it’s what I bring,” Lambert snapped. “No one ever appreciated what I do!”

“Because no one ever wants to eat what you like, sweetie,” Aiden said, walking toward the table.

Lambert froze, eyes tracing the spread of Mexican food that Coen had prepared, and glared at him. Aggressively. Coen glared back. He had texted and told him not to bother bringing a pizza this week, that it was handled. 

“I went through the trouble of buying a pizza that everyone would like-” Lambert started.

“No one wants an artichoke and sardine pizza with truffle oil and bacon bits,” Aiden corrected him, gabbing a few napkins and beginning to build himself a taco. 

“I didn’t have them add the nacho cheese!” Lambert snapped back.

“Your pizza place has nacho cheese as an option,” Coen asked, more than slightly horrified.

They lived in a small university town, he didn’t think there were any pizza places that he wasn’t familiar with. And yet Lambert had found one that sold pizza in plain white boxes, and kept the secret close to his heart. Or, as Coen liked to think of it, protected them from knowing where the local Hellmouth opened.

“They also offered to put guacamole and miso sauce on it,” Aiden offered. “For the umami. Is there tequila?”

“No tequila, but I’ve got some shitty cheap Mexican beers in the fridge,” Coen said, his face wrinkling in disgust at the thought of guacamole and miso mixed on a pizza.

Lambert pouted as he sat, shoving some of the bowls up the table and muttering about traitors with no taste under his breath. Coen ignored him and went to fetch the beers. 

By the time everyone arrived, happy to see edible food and, Coen noted with a grin, Eskel and Geralt had both brought cookies from that little bakery that Jaskier liked so much, Lambert had calmed down (though how he had managed to actually eat slices of that pizza he would never know), and was ready to play.

“Do you need my list of fire spells,” Yenn asked with a grin.

“This isn’t a glacier, is it,” Aiden asked. “I don’t want to find out that we saved the town from the frost demons and then flooded it with glacier melt and killed everyone.”

“I have marshmallows!” Jaskier said with glee.

“It’s not a glacier, the town is not in danger of flooding due to the campaign. They deal with run off every year, and are well prepared for any excess waters that may end up coursing through the river,” Coen assured them. “Are you all prepared for the bitter cold? It’s at least minus forty celcius in the mountains.”

Everyone nodded, and Coen bit back the urge to start cackling manically. He didn’t want to give the game away quite yet.

He wanted to watch them realize the horrors that they were facing, and perhaps their inevitable ends, on their own. It would be fun.

“I’ll go first,” Geralt said. “Flanked by Yenn, Aiden behind, then Lambert, Eskel, and finally Jaskier.”

“Jaskier should be in front of me, so I can cover our rear,” Eskel said, checking his abilities list.

Coen nodded. It didn’t matter to him what order they marched to their deaths in. 

“I cast several lights,” Yenn said, and Coen just nodded and made note of it.

She was a high enough sorceress that Light wouldn’t cost her anything. Let them see their doom march before them.

“You see two frost demon soldiers marching toward you, swords drawn, dressed in gleaming armor,” Coen said.

“Firebolt,” Yenn said with a yawn.

Coen grinned. 

“The firebolt hits, their armor sizzles and melts from their bodies and they roar furiously and begin charging.”

“I take point and block,” Geralt said.

“Start rolling, you’re in combat,” Coen said with a smile.

And so it started. Yenn hurling fire spells, Geralt grappling with the frost demons at first, and then, as the passage began to open, Aiden joining in. And, though they were slightly injured, they were managing quite well, having slain quite a few of the frost demons.

Lambert had even taken one of their swords and admired it before it began to melt apart in his hands.

“Jaskier, roll some dice,” Coen said dismissively.

“I’m covering the rear,” Eskel reminded him with a frown. 

“I rolled a… three,” Jaskier sighed.

“You’re having headaches, difficulty breathing, and your mood is turning sour. Lambert, dice.”

The others began rolling dice, and horror began dawning on their faces. Yenn was having problems concentrating, Geralt was poisoned, Aiden was suffering from tremors, and Lambert had had a seizure and was having problems mentally.

“Fuck, the armor and blades,” Aiden swore.

Coen had to give him points, he didn’t think anyone would catch on so fast. But, then again, Aiden was an engineer, so it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibilities that he was familiar with the side effects of mercury poison.

“Jaskier and I were never in combat, we couldn’t have been poisoned,” Eskel argued.

“Mercury, the damn things were mercury,” Aiden said. “Mercury becomes a solid at minus thirty eight celcius, and frost demons don’t have internal heat, so it wouldn’t cause them any issues. But the fire attacks were vaporizing it. Fuck, we need to get Jaskier out of here now, even a little bit of this shit can kill a human.”

“Jaskier, roll again,” Coen said, and Eskel glared at him.

Jaskier rolled delightfully low again, and Coen wondered if, perhaps, he and the dice were finally agreeing on something. They had never rolled so wonderfully his way before.

“Jaskier collapses and has a seizure,” Coen said gleefully.

“No,” Eskel shouted, rolling dice furiously. “I take him in my arms and start running from the cave!”

“Eskel, you moron,” Yenn shouted. “I run after the dumbass.”

“Eskel is surprisingly fleet of foot, and manages to dash from the cave into the chilly night air. You, however Yenn, slip and slide on the ice and remain a distance behind them.”

“Eskel, I lay panting in your arms, delirious,” Jaskier moaned, and Coen rolled his eyes.

“You’re not delirious. You’re aware,” Coen corrected him.

“Oh Eskel, take my lute and my notebook, and have the bards spread the tale of my adventures across the land,” Jaskier continued, throwing his all into the act.

Coen just sighed and watched, Aiden damn near giggling as he enjoyed the evening theater. He had forgotten that this was also a side effect of dealing with his friends; Jaskier didn’t only teach high school band, he was heavily involved in their little theater productions as well. He was going to chew this scenery until it fell apart around him.

“No, Jaskier!” Eskel wailed, joining in on the fun. “No one could ever match your voice or talent!”

“I shall miss all of you,” Jaskier wailed.

“You’re not going to miss my foot up your ass in a second, I have antidotes for shit like this,” Yenn growled.

“Yenn is next to you now. With bottles of the appropriate antidote.” Coen added helpfully.

“Oh, well, it tastes like ass, but thank you,” Jaskier said and shrugged, downing the last of his own beer.

“I say we just bring down the entrance to the caverns and trap them all inside, or hope that it destabilizes their little home and kills them all,” Lambert grouched, stealing a taco from Aiden’s plate.

“How many bombs do you have,” Geralt asked with a growl.

Lambert checked his sheets and Coen groaned. He had forgotten about the explosives.

“Enough. Probably. We should use them all,” Lambert said with a grin.

Coen glared back. He was just pissed that no one liked his shitty pizza.

“Then let’s blow this bitch up,” Eskel said in delight. “I can probably light them as you toss, or, if you roll them in, I can just light them all at a distance.”

And so the group that Coen had damn near almost slaughtered managed to not only destroy the ice caves of the frost demons without succumbing to the deadly effects of mercury poisoning, they also managed to bring the entire damn ice shelf crashing down upon the valley below, saving themselves and wiping out the village they had been hired to save.

“We’re still getting XP though, right,” Lambert asked.

“You just killed an entire village!” Coen snapped. “Show some respect!”

“I’ll compose a ballad and immortalize them,” Jaskier said. “But, really, with mercury armor wearing frost demons that were bringing ice sheets down from their icy realm to consume them, they were fucked either way.”

Coen just groaned and buried his face in his hands.

He wanted that tequila now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Geralt growls as Jaskier and Eskel have a moment*
> 
> *Yenn smacks Geralt upside the back of his head*
> 
> Lambert: seriously, shut the fuck up and take the popcorn, this is the best show we’ve seen all month
> 
> Aiden: shut the fuck up, but don’t take the popcorn. I don’t know why it’s green
> 
> *Everyone stares at the popcorn*
> 
> Lambert: sage, basil, parsley, and sea salt is a thing!
> 
> Aiden: it’s not a thing


	6. Chapter 6

Coen was, most assuredly, not hiding in his kitchen. It was his house, he didn’t need to hide from anything here at any point in time. He was just creatively finding reasons not to be in his gaming room at the moment. The same gaming room where Geralt and Yenn were currently glaring at each other over the table and trying to kill each other with said glare.

Were he a betting man, he would have put money on Yenn setting Geralt on fire. Geralt, for all his brooding, was nowhere near as good with a glare as his ex wife. He just didn’t want to be in the room when said fire happened, or he may have to get involved.

And if there was one thing life had taught him about Yenn and Geralt, it was don’t get involved. Unless getting involved meant taking Ciri out of the room. But they usually kept things no more than chilly when Ciri was around, they did both love their daughter very much.

Unfortunately Ciri wasn’t here, and so Coen was left with flipping through his great grandmother’s old cookbook in the kitchen. If he wasn’t lazy tomorrow he could actually bake something, he told himself. It was as good an excuse as any.

He was awestruck by the vast amount of jello related recipes though. He had had no idea that it was considered such an important part of the diet back in the day. There were ingredients that called for tomato jello! It was horrifying.

Coen looked up as Jaskier crept into the room, leaning over the island to look at the illustrations of fish embedded in jello that he was studying. With the vegetables placed the way they were, it honestly did sort of look like the fish was swimming in a pond. 

“So, is there a reason why Geralt and Yenn are sitting there and hatefully staring at each other? Because, normally, I’d be all for tension release with hateful sex after a good glare-”

Coen straightened suddenly, panicked. 

“Sit down, your gaming room is still virginal,” Jaskier said. “I just, why are they so angry? Ciri didn’t flunk a class did she? Can you even flunk classes in kindergarten?”

Coen sighed and leaned back down on his elbows, giving prayers to anything that listened. He didn’t mind his two friends being pissed, he just didn’t want to have to deal with cleaning up sex in his gaming room. Sex was thoroughly banned from his gaming room. 

“Remember that blind date Yenn set Geralt up for last weekend,” Coen asked, letting Jaskier turn the book around so he could study the jello illustrations in disgusted fascination as well.

“Yeah, it go badly?”

“Understatement. It was Triss,” Coen explained.

Jaskier stared at him blankly and motioned for him to continue.

“Triss, the woman that broke his heart when she transferred to that university off in Europe, and that’s how you managed to throw him at Yenn?”

“Oh, the mysterious long lost Lenore. Wait, Yenn set him up with his ex? I mean, letting your ex wife set you up with women just screams asking for trouble to begin with, but that’s cruel even for Yenn.”

“Yenn didn’t know Triss was his ex,” Coen said. “She only knows Triss professionally through academia, and now that Triss is back and the new professor in her department, well...”

“She thought she was being nice and helping Geralt hook up with someone,” Jaskier finished for him. “Damn, two women in the too much math sciences, he really does have a type, doesn’t he?”

“Not as much as you would think,” Coen said with a snort.

“Still, crosses me trying to set him up with Essie off my list,” Jaskier said with a sigh. “You know you can never show Lambert this book ever.”

“I have a feeling he has it stored away and memorized already, he just hasn’t figured out how to get it put on a pizza.” Coen said.

Hopefully putting it on the pizza after it had been cooked never, ever occurred to the man. He didn’t want to open a box and see a fish entombed in a jello pond sitting on his table. It was just cruel and unusual to the jello.

The sound of Geralt and Yenn’s angry bickering floated into the kitchen, and Coen doubted that they were going to have a game at all tonight. Or, at least, not a pleasant one.

“They weren’t even this angry about the damn divorce,” Coen groaned, massaging at his forehead.

“They were happy about the divorce, we had a party and everything,” Jaskier reminded him. “If Ciri had been old enough, she probably would have celebrated being able to con two birthday cakes and twice the Christmas cookies out of her parents every years.”

“They give her two birthday cakes?” Coen asked, perplexed. He knew for a fact that Yenn and Geralt just celebrated her birthday together, though they switched which house they had the party at every year.

“Yeah, but the second one is usually pretty small. Geralt once spent nearly an hour trying to figure out the right size and shape of the second cake at the ice cream shop. It was adorable,” Jaskier said with a laugh.

The voices were beginning to rise in volume, and Jaskier stood and pulled at his shirt. They had left the two alone long enough, it was time to go in and try to act like peace makers. Worst come to worst and he could just chuck Jaskier at Geralt to distract him.

“I don’t need you throwing your girlfriends at me out of sympathy, I can get my own dates,” Geralt shouted.

“She isn’t my girlfriend, we only went on a few dates!” Yenn shouted back.

Coen blinked and turned to Jaskier. Jaskier was the self professed master of love here. There had to be an explanation other than what he thought he had just heard. 

“You both dated the same woman?” Jaskier asked in surprise.

Apparently there was not. And Jaskier was just as confused as he was.

“Just a few dates, but we both have rules about fraternizing with coworkers,” Yenn said with a shrug. “It never would have worked.”

“You both have the same ex,” Jaskier said again, still staring between the two.

“She’s not my ex, it was just a few dates,” Yenn said with a sigh. “As I have been trying to pound into his thick skull.”

“If you sleep with someone that’s a relationship!” Geralt insisted.

“Technically, if you sleep with someone that’s just sex,” Jaskier said. “Relationships are usually more involved and have things like communication about where everyone stands and knowing what snacks they like from the convenience store.”

Geralt and Yenn both stared at Jaskier. Jaskier just shrugged.

“He doesn’t know what snacks I like from the convenience store,” Yenn said, gesturing at Geralt.

“You two are divorced,” Coen reminded her. “And I can’t believe you’re both fighting over having the same ex.”

“There is a simple solution, you know,” Jaskier said with a shit eating grin that Coen just knew was going to make him regret letting the other man talk. “If you both think she’s hot, and she thinks you’re both hot, you can just have a threesome and fuck it out.”

Coen pinched the bridge of his nose and wondered if Lambert would magically show up with an aspirin pizza. Anything to make the deep pounding behind his eyes go away. He should let Yenn take Jaskier outside and set him on fire, that would help make the headache stop.

“Yenn, no more setting Geralt up with anyone that you’ve ever had sex with. Geralt, find your own dates or don’t bitch at us when we set you up and you don’t like the results,” Coen snapped.

Was this what teaching high school was like? This felt like something you had to tell high school students. He was very glad that he did not teach high school students, he would have been forced to start chucking them from windows by now. Yes, his students were a little weird, but at least they kept the drama down.

Or, at least, the drama never leaked out around him.

“Jaskier… you’re not allowed to give romance advice.”

“I’m the master of romance, I have degrees in romance! Seven, framed lovingly and hanging on the walls of my living room!” Jaskier whined.

“You’re the master of giving us all a headache,” Coen groaned.

They looked up as a bickering Aiden and Lambert strode toward the room, Lambert empty handed. Coen could almost kiss Aiden, only he would be able to do something as amazing as that. The pizza had been slain, this night could be saved.

“I already paid for it, now it’s going to sit there and get cold waiting for me to pick it up!” Lambert pouted.

“The words ‘skittles’ and ‘peanut butter’ should never be used when ordering a pizza,” Aiden insisted. 

Coen made a face. Wouldn’t the skittles burn and the peanut butter melt? He didn’t want to know. He also didn’t want to know what else may be on that pizza that was waiting in some twisted excuse for a pizza shop.

“Geralt and Yenn both have the same ex,” Jaskier happily announced, breaking up the new argument.

“Not my ex, we just had sex,” Yenn shouted, throwing her bag of dice at his head.

Jaskier ducked and several books balanced precariously on the edge of the bookcase on the wall behind him failed their saving throw and fell to the ground in a heap. Coen sighed, grateful that, at least, there wasn’t blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Jaskier makes muffled noises from behind the duck tape*
> 
> Yenn: I cast magic missle
> 
> *Jaskier continues to make muffled noises*
> 
> Geralt: does that even work on these creatures? Eskel, you got your crossbolt?
> 
> Eskel: yeah, but the reloading time sucks, magic missile will at least distract them
> 
> *Jaskier makes frantic muffled noises*
> 
> Geralt: okay, Yenn you keep lobbing magic at them, Eskel you keep shooting them down with silver
> 
> Yenn: and what are you going to do?
> 
> Geralt: easy, distract them
> 
> *Geralt tosses a bound and gagged Jaskier into the distance*
> 
> Geralt: use your romance advice on them, that should help!
> 
> Narrator: it does not help. At all


	7. Chapter 7

“… and so then they spend the entire two hours just explaining their rationale to me. And, you know what? It made complete sense! So I’m going to be taking a step back and letting them take charge this time, and I really look forward to seeing what happens!” Jaskier smiled.

Coen put a book behind the DM screen and ducked back out of the room, trying to be as quiet as possible. The scene was almost adorable. Geralt had brought celery stick once more, but he had specifically put crunchy peanut butter and little raisins in them. He had also gone to the international food market and gotten sodas for everyone, including that odd tasting orange soda that Jaskier loved so much and Coen knew you almost had to special order to get because so few people like it.

And so there Jaskier was, picking the raisins off of his celery to nibble on, lucking the peanut butter out of the celery, and telling his captive audience about how the high school theater kids had decided that they were disgusted with ‘Taming of the Shrew’ and would be doing ‘Hamlet’ instead, and how Jaskier was going to let them.

Geralt didn’t say a single word about how Jaskier wasn’t actually eating the celery, or about how sugary the orange soda was. He was just sitting there and happily smiling while sipping at a beer and letting Jaskier go on. And Coen was letting them have this little moment together because that’s what friends did when one was oblivious and the other had absolutely no game.

How had Geralt ever managed to ask Yenn out, let alone to marry him? He honestly had no ability to actually do something direct like ask for a date, and Jaskier, well, he could only assume Jaskier turned off any ability to pick up a hint the instant he left whatever bar or club he generally went to to find said hints.

But there they were now, happy as little kittens, while Yenn was off taking Ciri to some obnoxious animated movie and Eskel, Aiden, and Lambert all managed to be running late. He really hoped Lambert and Aiden were running late because of something to do at the university and not because of whatever Lambert still attempted to call pizza.

And Eskel, he assumed, was waylaid by passing stray kittens that needed to be fuzzled and pet. As one does when one is Eskel.

Either way, everyone but Jaskier and Geralt were ten minutes late now, and Coen had run out of reasons not to be in his gaming room, and so had settled back into studying the horrors of his great grandmother’s jello cookbook. He had honestly thought about actually researching why such a thing not only existed, but was mass published.

Maybe Lambert’s tastebuds were the results of genes that managed to survive the 1950s? Because, apparently, there were many people that shared his love of whatever the fuck it was that he did to food. Who puts cream cheese on a pineapple and sticks olives in it!?

The front door opened and he went to go warn them away from the gaming room to give Jaskier and Geralt a little more time together when the smell hit him. A brick wall of noxious odor, worse than anything he had smelled on even the hottest summer day near the university dorms.

He knew that smell. Intimately. And everyone knew it was banned from his house. Lambert had crossed a line if he thought he could bring anything decorated with that hellish fruit into his home. He didn’t care how sweet or succulent people said it was, he was having none of it.

“Gods fucking dammit Lambert!” Coen roared as he stormed toward the front door.

Lambert’s eyes went wide and Aiden jumped back as Coen shoved him and the revolting white box back out of his house. He could hear Geralt and Jaskier behind him and he didn’t care. This was a line that was fucking burned in the sand and there would be no crossing it.

“You know the fucking rules,” Coen growled, grabbing the box away from Lambert. “No fucking durian!”

He flung the box toward the street. It was a stupid thing to do, he knew. Everything that fucking fruit touched would smell of it for months. It would smear itself across the street and the entire neighborhood would reek of it until someone finally hauled out a sledgehammer and hauled the infected parts of the street away.

Or maybe he could get some thermite and burn it away, it wasn’t hard to make thermite and he was sure his neighbors would turn a blind eye to the destruction. He wouldn’t be a hero, but at least the rotting smell of a thousand festering corpses would be gone.

But the pizza didn’t fly into the street to linger and infect the neighborhood. Instead it came to a rather sudden stop across Eskel’s chest, smearing a bizarre amalgamation of red and pink and blue. What the fuck else had been on the pizza that had been _blue_!?

Eskel gagged, dropping to his knees, and Coen immediately felt sorry for him.

“I’ve been slain,” Eskel groaned, trying to wipe the still sliding goo off his shirt and back into the box.

At least Coen could dig out chunks of the yard and have them hauled away. Dirt was easier to dispose of than concrete, and avoided such messy things as police officers and vandalism laws.

“Oh no, Eskel,” Jaskier shouted, darting around the stunned Coen, Lambert, and Aiden. “Oh fuck, there’s no saving that shirt. Come on, my place is closest and I have some soaps that can get a smell out of anything.”

He heard Geralt make an aborted whimper behind him.

“Can we start the game in, like, an hour?” Jaskier asked, helping a blushing Eskel to his feet. 

“Yeah, it’ll give us time to order a proper pizza,” Coen said. 

“Come on, I’ve probably got a few spare shirts that are your size. Did any of it get on your bag,” Jaskier asked, walking with Eskel down the street toward his house.

“I’ll just go set this on fire somewhere not near here,” Aiden said, folding up the box and wrinkling his nose. “I fucking told you this was a bad idea.”

“Durian is delicious,” Lambert said in his defense, sulkily walking away with his husband and looking longingly at the now ruined pizza box.

Coen turned around to see a wide eyed Geralt still staring after where Eskel and Jaskier had disappeared down the street. 

“I like soap too,” Geralt said, and Coen would nearly said he whined.

Coen patted him on the shoulder and motioned for them both to go back inside. He could take care of whatever was infected in the yard tomorrow.

“I know you do,” Coen said closing the door behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Geralt stares off into the distance and whimpers*
> 
> Coen: you should have brought those cookies he likes. Eskel always brings those cookies he likes
> 
> Geralt: but I put peanut butter in the celery, and little raisins on top and everything! It was perfect!
> 
> Yenn: and this, my friends, is a perfect example of why our relationship failed.
> 
> Geralt: because I didn’t buy you cookies?
> 
> Yenn: because you suck at communication!
> 
> Coen: she is right, using your words is probably the best at this point. Then you, too, could know the varieties of soap Jaskier has in his shower. 
> 
> *Geralt whimpers and tries to see if the cookie shop delivers cookies*


End file.
